Who Needs Money
by JessieBess
Summary: Written for Gretchie in the Secret Valentine's Day Exchange. It's a Valentine's Day to remember when Tom's date walks out on him and he can't find his wallet so he finds himself unable to pay for their meal. Will he be rescued from embarrassment or will the police be called?


_This was written for Gretchie's Valentine Prompt: Person A is on a Valentine's date at a restaurant when their date walks out. Person A doesn't have their wallet, and Person B makes them do dishes to pay for the meal. Despite this, the evening ends on a positive note for them both (perhaps with an impromptu date?) The author can decide who is A and who is B._

Tom kinda liked being on the other side of a bar. Heaven knows he had spent a lot of time sitting at bars but he had never been on the bartender side before. Just having all these bottles at his fingertips or better yet the ability to pull the tap on the dozen or so ales or lagers. But he wasn't standing here to admire the many bottles that were available or even to taste the treasures they held, no he had work to do as his water wrinkled fingers could attest to. Funny but he had never thought about how many glasses a bar went through in a night nor how many plates or knives or forks were used. But now ….

 **Earlier that evening**

Tom was frustrated. He had thought this job would be rather simple and that he'd have it done in no time at all and now it was … he looked up at the large clock on the garage wall. _Oh Feck! If he didn't stop right now he'd be late._

But he couldn't stop right now for he had promised Mr. Mackey he'd get the job finished and he knew Mr. Mackey was counting on him. _Maybe I'll come back afterwards … finish it then … but that would be after a few drinks or a bottle of wine … and … he could imagine what Susie would say if he told her he had to go back to the garage … and what if he didn't back here … what if…_

He owed Mr. Mackey too much to let him down so Tom spent another half hour, time that he should have used to get ready, working on the car until finally it was done. He quickly wiped down the tools, _I'll come back tomorrow and do a better cleaning job,_ and left them piled on the work table along with his grease splattered coveralls. It pained him to leave such a mess but he didn't really have a choice since he was running so late.

He sprinted the two blocks to the tube station. For once luck was on his side and the train came just as he reached the platform. Ten minutes later he was emerging from the busy Finsbury Park tube station and then once on the quieter side streets sprinted again the ten minutes to his flat.

He had called Susie before finishing the work on the car to tell her he was running late and he could hear the exasperation in her voice. _Didn't he realize it was Valentine's Day? How late would he be? What was so important that made him so late?_ Rather than answer all her questions knowing that if he did it would prolong the conversation, probably cause a quarrel and make him even later, he just told her that he was leaving soon and that she should meet him at the restaurant.

During the short ride on the tube he thought about his conversation with Susie. He could understand that she would be upset at his being so late but he knew what was really bothering her was that he had been working at the garage something that she had made known she thought was quite beneath him and by implication her. He didn't understand the irritation that Susie had at his working at the garage and it was a constant sore point between them.

They had met seven months ago when seated next to each other at a press conference. He had been struck by her grasp of the issues and they had continued their conversation over a pint and a burger at the hotel bar. They might have progressed to something more but Tom had a deadline to meet on another issue and needed to get back to work.

Although they exchanged phone numbers and talked or texted several times, their schedules didn't allow any face to face meetings. So it wasn't until six weeks later that they met again at another press conference. This time one thing led to another and they ended up in bed at Susie's flat.

From that time until shortly before Christmas, their relationship was a casual infrequent thing. Tom had just come off a two year relationship and he wasn't ready to plunge back into another deep relationship so this thing with Susie had seemed fine with him. But something had changed around early December and they began to see each other two or three times a week provided they were both in London which surprisingly wasn't that often. He liked Susie and enjoyed her company but he still wasn't sure how deep he wanted their relationship to go.

Arriving at the flat he shared with three other guys, Tom raced up the stairs, checking that the shared bathroom was unoccupied, for all he needed was for one of his flat mates to be showering and making him even later, before entering his bedroom. He reached into his jacket pocket and removed his phone which, along with his keys, he set on the top of the long low bookcase that lined the wall just to the left of the bedroom door. Quickly shedding his jacket, trousers, shirt and socks, he hastily threw them on the bed, an act of seeming unimportance but which would have a profound effect on not only Tom's evening but one could even say his future. Gathering his bathrobe and clean underwear he headed for the bath.

Seven minutes later he was back in his room looking at his closet trying to decide what to wear, _I don't have time for this,_ before grabbing a pair of navy blue trousers and its matching jacket that made a casual suit and a clean white shirt which he quickly donned. He was going for the dressy casual look so decided against a tie. He hadn't taken the time to wash his hair or shave even though he did have that so called "five o'clock shadow" but he liked that look and had lately been giving consideration to growing a beard.

He grabbed his phone and keys from the top of the book case and dashed down the stairs. Since the evening was getting colder he opted to wear his camel colored wool coat which was in the coat closet near the flat's front door. He stopped only long enough to put on his wool coat and the Burberry cashmere scarf that Susie had given him for Christmas, put his phone and keys in his pocket, and was finally out the door.

Just as he thought it would be, the restaurant was crowded when he arrived with people waiting in the small anteroom. Surprisingly he didn't see Susie among those waiting and thought she must have already gone to their table but when he inquired at the maître d' stand he was directed to the bar.

He spotted Susie sitting at the far end of the wooden bar instead of at one of the small tables scattered around the small paneled room. Rather than looking out for him, she was engrossed in her phone which shouldn't have been surprising to him and only paused her typing to take a drink of the martini she held in her other hand. Like him, Susie was a journalist yet unlike him, she had ambitions to be a television news presenter. She had the looks for it in that way that all the current young female presenters seemed to be pretty in an indistinguishable slim blonde blue-eyed look. She had even taken voice lessons to rid herself of her natural Yorkshire accent, an accent that Tom thought was rather grating, making her sound more like the generic sounding BBC broadcasters.

One area that had always been a thorny one between the two was Tom's working at the garage. She couldn't understand that Mr. Mackey had thrown Tom a lifeline at a time when he so desperately needed it and for that he had earned Tom's respect and gratitude. Tom had always loved cars and even as a teenager back in Ireland he had chosen cars over girls.

Even now the bulk of his income came from cars although not from working at the garage but rather his writing for several car magazines. While he wanted a career as a political journalist, shortly after arriving in London he had been laid off from the newspaper job for which he had left the Irish Examiner. He now did political freelance work which could be lucrative yet unsteady but the writing for the car magazines was dependable. As a plus, it allowed him to attend various car shows in England as well as Europe. Working for Mr. Mackey had helped in his transition from full time newspaper work to freelancer and for a time Tom even lived in the small studio flat behind the garage.

"Any breaking stories" Tom asked lightheartedly as he slipped onto the stool beside Susie with the two empty martini glasses on the bar in front of her not escaping his notice.

"Yes … one. Restaurants are busy on Valentine's Day" she replied without looking up from her phone.

Tom chuckled. "I think I could have surmised that just by looking at this place."

Susie finally looked at him. "Could you surmise that restaurants don't hold reservations for …" she looked down at her watch "73 minutes."

"Are you saying …"

"Yes Tom I'm saying that we lost our reservation" there was no mistaking the annoyance in her voice. "And while we can wait for another cancellation, the maître d' assured me it is highly unlikely we'll get a table."

Tom looked away from Susie and at the large wall mirror behind the bar and sighed.

"I'm sorry Susie."

"Yeah well" he noted that that carefully polished accent she had worked so hard at was slipping a bit although he wasn't sure if it was from the drinks or her annoyance.

"There's plenty of places around here. Let's go for a walk and find one." Tom tried sounding cheerful.

"I'm sure they're all full too" Susie responded. "Unless it's some dump." But she did stand up and start buttoning her overcoat.

Tom leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm sure we'll find something." To which she responded by rolling her eyes.

The area did have a great number of restaurants but as Susie had predicted all the trendy places were full. In fact the restaurant where they lost their reservation had been Susie's second choice. The original place she wanted to go to had been full when she had called over two weeks ago for which Tom was secretly grateful because the place was way out of his budget. Not that he couldn't afford to spend over a hundred pounds for dinner but he had spent more than usual for Christmas and with his sister's upcoming wedding he knew he'd have more unexpected expenses. He had managed to save quite a bit and he didn't want to delve into that just in case the freelance work dried up.

After being turned away at five restaurants, Tom was getting a bit desperate and Susie was getting more agitated. Down a narrow lane off the main road Tom spotted _The Dove Call_ which to him looked like an upscale local pub.

"Let's try that place" Tom stated while pointing down the lane towards the pub.

"Seriously Tom?" Susie whined.

"There's no line. It's late and I'm hungry" he curtly replied.

 _The Dove Call_ was one of those places that was hard to describe. It looked as if a new owner was trying to make what had been a local pub more upscale and attract a broader clientele. There was the large wooden bar that had probably been here since the building was built sometime early in the last century which ran the length of the room. Tall wooden booths, the kind where you can't see the people at the next booth, lined the opposite wall and in between were two rows of tables draped with white table cloths and, in a nod for Valentine's Day, a small glass vase with three red roses at each table.

Although the bar was fully occupied it appeared that only about half the tables were taken. The diners were a mixed lot with probably half couples of Tom's parents age and most of the rest young working class couples for whom this place was an upscale choice.

They were still looking around the room with Susie whining about the place when the hostess came up to them. The sound of her posh husky voice caught Tom's attention and drew his eyes from the bar, well the selection of ales and lagers on tap, to her.

She was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black skirt with her glossy dark hair pulled back from her face into a loose bun and even in the soft light of the room he could tell she had blue eyes. When she smiled at them and welcomed them to the _Dove Call_ in that voice that made Tom think of whiskey, Tom thought she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever met.

She led them to a booth and handed them both menus bound in a red leather cover before telling them of the night's specials and taking their drinks order, ale for Tom and another martini for Susie.

The menu seemed to have typical pub fare with only the night's specials more upscale.

"See this place isn't so bad" Tom began "the menu looks nice. And the hostess certainly sounded posh."

In response, Susie rolled her eyes. "Well it doesn't take much to please you." Closing her menu she added "and you were a little too obvious in ogling her."

When the hostess returned with their drinks, Tom's first impulse was to keep his eyes on his menu, but at the sound of her voice asking if they were ready to order he couldn't help but look at her. He ordered the crab stuffed mushroom appetizer special for him and Susie to split. He knew it was a favorite of hers and only hoped that this restaurant didn't let him down.

However Tom's fears for the evening heighten when Susie downed her martini in only three gulps and then loudly called over the hostess to order another one much to Tom's chagrin.

"I am sorry about this evening" Tom stated sincerely. "I didn't think it would take me so long but I promised Mr. Mackey…"

"And what about your promise to me?" Susie cut in.

"It's just one night Suse" Tom answered using her more intimate nickname.

"But it's our first Valentine's Day together" Susie whined.

Before Tom could respond to that, the hostess appeared with their appetizer and Susie's drink. Susie then ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, one of the evening's specials, causing Tom to briefly wonder if this was another way of her showing him her displeasure.

The hostess had barely walked away from their table when Susie exclaimed, in a voice Tom was sure the she could hear, that she doubt if a place like this could actually cook that dish very well.

"If you thought that then why didn't you order something else" Tom responded. "Something that you think a place like this can do well."

Susie just glared at him a few seconds before finally speaking "You just don't have any ambition do you Tom."

"What pray tell does that have to do with ordering dinner?" Tom was getting a bit agitated now, not necessarily for Susie's latest comment although that didn't strike him well, but for her attitude this evening.

Susie did one of her dramatic sighs.

"So I screwed up about tonight Suse. It's not the end of the world" Tom countered. "If you can't handle something like this what happens when you're sent to some third world country on a reporting assignment?" Then as an afterthought he threw in "Or a place with no martinis?"

The look Susie gave him caused him to think she might actually throw her drink at him. Yet he didn't apologize because he was getting angry now.

"But I guess you think such reporting is beneath you. That you'll just walk into one of those anchor jobs without paying your dues as a reporter." Tom knew as soon as he said that last bit that he had gone too far, that he had touched a raw nerve since Susie did in fact think she should be an anchor, that she was ready now to step into such a job.

Susie didn't respond verbally to Tom but the crushed look on her face spoke volumes.

"Oh Suse. I … I… didn't" Tom began but Susie quietly stood and grabbed her coat.

"Don't bother calling me again" she said and with that she made a quick exit from the restaurant.

Tom was stunned that she had actually got up and left and he sat there staring at the high back of the booth. He finally shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure what he was feeling but when he looked towards the bar and realized that several diners were looking at him, he felt embarrassed. _At least she didn't scream or throw her drink at me. Thank heavens it's late enough that there aren't many diners._

Deep in his thoughts, Tom didn't realize at first that the hostess was talking to him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Is it too late to cancel the fish special?" Tom asked.

The waitress looked at him in puzzlement. "Is something wrong?"

Tom softly chuckled. "You must have been the only person that didn't see my date walk out."

"Walked out?" she repeated with a hint of puzzlement still in her voice.

"Yeah" Tom responded. "Pretty embarrassing when your date walks out on you on Valentine's Day."

She raised her left eyebrow "was it a blind date?" Sybil thought he was quite good looking with a very charming smile so she couldn't imagine what had led his date to walk off.

He looked up at her and Sybil could feel her face blush under his scrutiny.

"I think that might have been worse if it was a blind date" he said solemnly but the twinkle in his eyes belied the seriousness of his voice. "I mean she wouldn't have had time to really know me."

"So it's better that she was your girlfriend?"

Tom put his elbows on the table and smacked his face with both hands. "I guess either way it sounds bad."

Before she could reply a voice called out "Sybil your order's up."

"I guess that answers your question about cancelling the dinners" Sybil quickly remarked before hurrying away.

She returned a minute later with both meals and another pint of ale.

"No charge for the pint" she whispered as she set it on the table in front of Tom.

Tom chuckled "Is that a brokenhearted special?"

Sybil joined him in chuckling but before she could respond a diner at the next table called her over.

Tom watched her interact with the diners and surmised from their banter that she knew them. He was intrigued by her and wondered why such a posh woman, it wasn't only the voice but he had noticed the diamond and sapphire necklace with the matching earrings and bracelet and her general demeanor that spoke upper class, was working here.

Faced with paying for two dinners, Tom decided to eat the fish dish and have his shepherd's pie boxed to go since it would be good reheated for his dinner tomorrow. He found he was quite hungry and the fish was delicious. _Susie would have been surprised at how good this dish is. Maybe she would have been more surprised that he could actually eat dinner instead of just sitting there bemoaning her leaving._

Finishing the last morsel on his plate, Tom looked around the restaurant and was surprised to find that except for a couple of guys at the bar, the place was now empty. Looking at his watch he couldn't believe that it was half past eleven.

 _Wonder if I can get another pint. Now that the place is practically empty I might be able to talk to her._

As if she could read his mind, the hostess suddenly walked through the door behind the bar and came over to his table.

She smiled at him and Tom felt his heart flutter. "Good to see that your sorrow didn't affect your appetite" she lightheartedly quipped as she set his bill down on the table.

"Well I need to keep my strength up" he cheekily responded. "and that dish was excellent."

"That's nice to hear. I'll pass on your kind words to the chef. She's trying out a new menu."

"Would it be possible for another pint?"

Sybil looked around the room before turning back to Tom. "I'm afraid we close at eleven on weekdays."

Tom nodded at her. "I see. Well I'm sorry to have kept you so late" he said as he reached for his wallet but to his astonishment his wallet wasn't in his trouser pocket. Although he always put his wallet in his right pocket he checked the other one just in case but that too was empty. He frowned as he tried to think what he had done with his wallet. He stood up and checked the pockets of his coat which was hanging from a hook on the booth but he found only his keys and his phone.

Hoping that maybe his wallet had somehow fallen out of his trousers' pocket he felt around the booth's seat and then tried looking under the table but the wallet was not to be found. He sat back down and tried to think what he could have done with his wallet. As he thought back over the evening he suddenly recalled the trousers he had worn all day, which he knew had his wallet in the pocket, but in his haste to get ready had thrown them on his bed without taking out his wallet. _What am I going to do now? Will she believe me?_

"Did you drop something?" He was so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed her approach the table.

"I know this is going to sound awful … but … I … I was running so late … that's why my date was so angry" he paused to look at her "but in my haste I … I … I forgot to take my wallet out of the trousers I was wearing and just threw them on the bed."

She stared at him for several seconds. "So what you're trying to tell me is that you can't pay for your dinner."

"I could sign an IOU and come back tomorrow with the money" he stated hopefully but he knew that sounded quite lame.

She sighed "You expect me to believe that?"

Tom put his face in his hands. He couldn't believe this himself, he had never done such a thing before, but why should she believe him.

"I hope you'll believe it. I'm truly embarrassed."

She stood there looking down at him and he couldn't tell from her expression if she believed him.

He suddenly remembered his phone and he reached into his coat to retrieve it. "Maybe I can reach one of my flat mates to …" he started to scroll through his phone list. He tried both Danny and Liam but only got their voice mail. He knew it was futile to try Ian since he was in Wales for the weekend.

He retrieved a picture of him and his mother standing in front of the Christmas tree with Tom's arm around her shoulder and both grinning.

Holding out his phone to Sybil he stated "That's from Christmas … me and my ma. Does she look like the kind of woman that would raise an untrustworthy son?"

"I'm supposed to think you're honest based on a picture of you and your mother?" she sounded incredulous. "I'm sure even Jessie James had a mother."

"Ah … but he didn't have a nice Irish mother. Goes to mass every morning …"

"Probably praying for her sons" Sybil interrupted him.

"I'll have you know I'm a journalist." He scrolled through the pictures on his phone. "Here look at this one. I won the Gregor award for my reporting on …"

Sybil looked at the picture of him receiving a plaque. "Gee you'd think that a man that could win the _Gregor_ " he didn't like the way she emphasized Gregor "award would be a man that paid for his meals."

"You've heard of the Gregor award?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

Tom slumped back on the bench. He rubbed his hand through his hair, something he did automatically when nervous. For the first time the thought that she might call the police entered his mind.

"You can help me clean up."

It took him a minute to process what she had said. "Of course I can." He quickly got to his feet "I can help with anything" he said eagerly.

And so that is how Tom came to find himself behind the bar now putting clean glasses away. He had probably been working for over an hour but the last of the dishes and silverware and glasses were washed and dried. Yet even as late as it was Tom didn't want the evening to end. Not that he wanted to do any more washing or drying or stacking or sweeping, no he'd done enough of that. But rather he wanted to just sit and talk to her.

It was just the two of them left in the restaurant. They had finally properly introduced themselves to each other while she loaded the dishwasher and ordered him to stack the clean plates.

The owner of the restaurant was Sybil's landlord and she helped out when needed at the restaurant for a reduced rent. Tonight one of the regular waitresses had called in sick and so Sybil had come to work in her place. Tom was astonished that she didn't already have plans, after all it was Valentine's Day, and how could someone like her not have a boyfriend he wondered.

"My luck with men hasn't been very good" she confided in him.

"Maybe what you need is to change the type of guys you go out with" Tom boldly stated.

Sybil chuckled. "That's what my friends Gwen and Thomas are always saying to me."

"Maybe you need a nice Irish lad"

"Oh" she responded raising that one eyebrow. "And I suppose you're that nice Irish lad?"

He smiled that cheeky grin that she found quite appealing. "Well it wouldn't hurt to see."

He loved the way she bit her lower lip and the slight blush that colored her cheeks.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Will you remember your wallet or should I come prepared?"

"You can search my trousers before we leave your house" the words were out of his mouth before he realized just how that could be misconstrued. Now it was his turn to blush. "I mean I'll show you my wallet before you step out the door" he quickly added.

They both broke out laughing.


End file.
